Worst Case Scenario
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Something horrible has happened to Hotch, he just has no idea what it is. With the team just as baffled and trying to find a missing Reid, it becomes a nightmare they all feared, an unsub targeting them. Hurt!Hotch Hurt!Reid NO SLASH! M for sexual abuse
1. Chapter 1

**-**Well, my first attempt at hurting someone besides Spencer lol (even though Spencer's hurt too ;) ) Enjoy!-

**Worst Case Scenario**

**1**

I don't know where I am. I don't know why my body hurts so much. I don't know where the blood came from and I don't know why none of these people are asking me. They just keep walking. Some of them walk faster than others. Some see me and turn away.

I stumble through the semi-crowded sidewalk, in pain, wondering if any of these people can tell me who the hell I am. I'm scared. I'm shaking because it's cold. I don't have any shoes. I wonder where those went too.

I stared around the vast city, the night wind biting against my skin.

"HOTCH!" Someone yells behind me. "HOTCH!" I wonder who they're looking for. I turned and saw a black man running toward me. I shrunk into myself, afraid that he might hurt me.

"Hotch," the man breathed once he had reached me. I didn't know who he was talking to. I kept my eyes down, ready to run at any moment. "Hey, hey, Hotch, look at me." He put his hands on my shoulders. I jumped, whimpering a little. "Aaron." Something clicked in my head. Aaron. I'm Aaron.

"M-Morgan?"

* * *

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I'd never seen Hotch like this, never. Never this vulnerable, or this scared. This…weak. He didn't even know his own name!

His hands were covered in blood that I assumed was his own, 'cause it sure as hell looked like the rest of it was his. His clothes were torn to all hell, like they'd been ripped off and put back on again. And that was another thing that I'd never seen when it came to Hotch. His tattered clothes were remnants of pajamas.

"Aaron…" I think calling him by his first name was the weirdest part. "Hotch, what happened to you?" He shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, his voice strangled. "I don't know." He was in shock, deep in shock, but I had to try and talk to him. It was important.

"Alright, alright, it's okay. Hotch," I lifted his chin, gaining his attention again. "Hotch, where's Reid?"

"Reid?" He gulped. That confirmed my fears that he might've been drugged.

"Yes, Reid," I nodded. "He was with you, but we can't find him. Where's Reid?"

"Reid is…he was…he was asleep. In his room…" He said softly. God, he had no idea what the hell was going on.

"No, no, Hotch, he's not there," I said, shaking my head. "Is that where you saw him last?" He was thinking, I could see it. His mind was racing too fast, just like his heart.

"I don't- I didn't- He-"

"Okay, okay, it's alright, Hotch," I assured. He was shivering. I took off my jacket and draped it over his shoulders. "We're gonna get you to a hospital, alright? It's gonna be okay." Then he did something I didn't even know he was capable of. He started to cry.

He fell against me and I caught him, holding him to me. "Morgan, what's happening?"

"I…I don't know. But we're gonna find out. We're gonna find Reid, and we're gonna find out what happened to you, alright? I promise. It's gonna be okay," I assured, hugging him.

In truth, I was scared to all holy hell. What the hell was going on?

* * *

_Aaron Hotchner's hotel room, New York City, New York_

"That was Morgan," Emily said, closing her phone. "He found Hotch about six blocks away."

"Is he alright?" Rossi asked. J.J. looked at her hopefully.

"Not…not really. He's strong enough to walk, but Morgan said he's covered in blood and has no idea where he is or what happened to him. He didn't even remember his own name until Morgan said it," she said quietly.

"Did he know where Reid was?" J.J. asked, her eyes filled with hope once again. Emily sighed.

"The last time he saw him he was in his room. Obviously he's not there now."

The room itself wasn't disturbed much. It was the bed that was the source of concern. Handcuffs hung empty on the bedposts, bloody. The sheets were wet with blood and God only knew what else. Scuff marks decorated the floor from the bed moving.

The other point of interest was the radiator. The metal was scraped, as if someone had been tied to it and struggled. What the hell happened here none of them knew, but they understood that it wasn't good.

"Maybe whoever hurt Hotch took Reid," Rossi suggested. "He could be anywhere right now."

"We have to know what we're looking for before we can look," J.J. said pointedly, trying not to lose her head in all of this. Reid was gone, again. It wasn't necessarily déjà vu, but it was the same feeling she had the last time this had happened.

"Maybe we should wait and see if Hotch remembers anything before we look anywhere," Emily suggested.

"Either way, we'll need the profile," Rossi said. "So we might as well start now."

The two women nodded and continued looking around. J.J. shut her eyes.

_God, Reid, where are you?_

* * *

I could hear them talking. I knew they were looking for me. I wanted to scream and shout to tell them where I was, but the duct tape made it impossible. And I wasn't strong enough to make a sound anyway. I couldn't even move. I cried softly, wishing they would find the door disguised as part of the wall. They used it as a perk for the authenticity of the old hotel room.

The air was sticky and hot. The tape around my wrists dug painfully into my raw skin. I was still bleeding, still crying. I hoped Hotch was alright. But after…after that, I…I…

I cried harder, barely making a sound. The space I was in was small, smaller than a closet in both depth and width. It was so small I had to stand up just to fit. I had been shoved in here, left to die while my friends looked for me.

"We should head to the hospital," Emily said. No, no, no, no, DON'T LEAVE ME!

"Yeah," J.J. said. "We'll tell Morgan what we found and put out a report on the news." They were walking away, I could hear them.

Oh god, please, don't go! I tried to make a sound, any sound. To get them to hear me. But my body was too heavy for me to even _try_ to move. I tried to scream, to speak, but all that came out was a feeble whimper.

The door closed and they were gone. My only hope, gone. I was going to die.

-Tell me what ya think!-


	2. Chapter 2

**Worst Case Scenario**

**2**

_Bellevue Hospital, New York City_

"He's definitely been drugged," Dr. Simmons said gravely. "We found track marks on his neck. The blood tests haven't come back yet but I'll tell you when they do."

Morgan nodded, glancing over at Rossi. "Do you know what happened to him?" He asked.

The doctor bit his lip. "He was definitely tortured. He was beaten, cut and burned. And…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable

"What?" Prentiss asked, though none of them really wanted to know the answer.

"He…he was raped. But...we, we found no traces of foreign DNA. But there was tearing and signs of abuse.

"What does that mean?" J.J. gulped. There was a long lapse of silence before someone answered her.

"It means that…that he was raped with a foreign object," Rossi said quietly. Morgan shut his eyes, chewing his lip. Prentiss sat down, her knees unable to hold her anymore. J.J. covered her mouth and turned around, as if she were trying to get away from this horrible incident.

"Can we see him yet?" Emily choked.

"Uh, yes," Simmons said nervously. "He's not awake, mind you, but you're more than welcome to be in there with him.

"Thank you," Morgan said.

"I'll let you know when those blood tests get back," the doctor muttered before walking away.

The BAU team –or what was left of it- was silent for a long time. None of them spoke or looked at each other. They were each lost in their own thoughts, some praying, some cursing.

"We need to find Reid," Morgan finally said. The others nodded in agreement. "What did you guys find at the hotel?"

"Well whoever it was had to have some way to subdue both Reid and Hotch at the same time. From the looks of his room Reid was dragged out of bed and over to Hotch's room," Rossi said, keeping his voice under control.

"So this guy wanted him to see what was being done to Hotch," Morgan stated. "Why?"

"To scare him, maybe?" J.J. suggested, finding her voice. "To show him what was about to be done to him?"

Morgan's stomach turned at the thought of his best friend being put through something like that. "Maybe. Anything else?"

"Whoever did this must've drugged and restrained Hotch before they got Reid. If they hadn't he would've put up an even bigger fight than the one present," Rossi said. "They knew what they were doing and they understood that would happen. And he knew that Hotch and Reid knew each other; that they were close to each other. Hell, he might've even known they were both FBI agents. Either way, he watched them."

"How else could he know that we were staying in another part of town?" Prentiss said rhetorically.

"Do you think he took Reid?" Morgan asked.

"We'd have to check the security cameras to know for sure, but that makes the most sense to me," J.J. said.

"I'll call Garcia," he said, taking out his phone. "We'll find out right now. The last thing we need is to look for him and he's still in the damn building." He was scared to death that they wouldn't find him. Or that if they did he…he'd be…

_Don't think like that,_ he scolded himself. _He's alright. He's tough. He's smart. He'll do whatever it takes to stay alive or let us know where he is. He'll be okay… Please let him be alright._

* * *

_FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia_

"The court of the wonder goddess Penelope Garcia recognizes the great and powerful gorgeous one. Speak, my love," I grinned.

"Hey, Baby Girl."

"What's wrong?" I frowned, something I hated to do, noting the profiler's tone.

"We…we got a big problem, Penelope."

After the first sentence of Derrick explaining I wanted him to stop. I didn't want to hear that Hotch was hurt, or what had happened to him. I could tell he wasn't telling me everything, and I was totally okay with that.

But Reid, poor baby Reid. Not again, I couldn't do this again. I prayed as hard as I could that he would be okay. My eyes watered at the thought of that poor baby alone, scared, hurt, crying, begging for us to help him.

I shook my head, clearing away those painful thoughts. "What do you need me to do, Morgan?"

"I need you to look at security cameras at the hotel they were staying at for me," he said. "I need you to see if the unsub took Reid out of the building or not. Can you do that for me, Baby Girl?"

"It'll take a couple hours, but to find our baby I'd sell my own soul," I said firmly before hanging up. "Please let them be okay. Please, please, please let that baby be alright."

* * *

So hot… so dark. My heart wouldn't stop thudding. My lungs begged for more air, for cooler air, but there was only so much you could breathe in through your nose. God, I couldn't breathe.

_Morgan…Morgan, help me. Oh, god…_

I tried to push away those memories, those horrible, horrible memories. If I forgot then they'd go away. If I blocked those memories they would disappear forever.

I shifted my raw wrists again, feeling blood drip down my fingers. I was dying. Slowly, but I was. No one would know. They would never find me. I would die here, alone. I sobbed in the heated darkness, begging for anyone that was listening to help me. They needed to know, they had to know…

I needed to tell my mom goodbye.

"He has to be here somewhere and this room's the best place to start."

Morgan!

My heart jumped.

"Is there anywhere in this room that he could've been hidden?" J.J. asked.

"Uh," an unknown voice said. "I-I think there's a closet around here somewhere. I-I'd have to check the floor-plans though."

"You don't know where the closet is in the hotel you run?" Morgan snapped. I could almost see the look on his face.

"It-it's hidden, in the wall they-"

"J.J., help me look." They were on the other side of the room, knocking on the walls.

I mustered all the strength I could, hurting myself. But I had to get out of here. I had to warn them.

I moved away from the wall, only about an inch or so. I slammed into it, crying out –a quiet and weak sound-, hoping they heard it over their own voices and the banging.

"Shhshhshh, hang on," Morgan said. "I heard somethin'; hang on. Kid?" He heard me, he heard me! "Kid, if you can hear me, do that again."

Oh, again. Easier said than done. I clenched my jaw and used everything I had left to copy what I had just done. The thud was louder this time, though I was sobbing from pain.

"It was over here," J.J. said. They were walking toward me.

"Kid!" I never thought I'd be happy to hear him call me that in my life. They were hitting the walls around me. "Kid, we're comin'. Just hold on, alright? Just hang on. We're almost there. We're almost there, it's okay."

I cried harder. They were coming. My heart soared when someone tapped on the door. "I got it!" J.J. exclaimed.

The door opened. Light assaulted my eyes, cool air met my lungs and comforting arms wrapped around me. I cried so hard it hurt, shaking.

"Shh, it's okay, Kid. It's alright, I got you. I got you, it's okay now." I sobbed into his chest, thinking just one thing.

Is Hotch okay?

-More soon. Feedback plz-


	3. Chapter 3

**-NOO SLASH! **None, nein, nada, zippo, zilch. Ok? Ok :) -

**3**

"Haley… Haley, help…" Hotch moaned softly, his face screwing up in discomfort. Emily looked up from her spot in the doorway, making sure she had heard him right.

"H-Haley, it hurts," he whimpered. She went to him as soon as her fears were confirmed. She took his hand, touching his forehead.

"Shh, Hotch, it's okay. It's okay, shh… Wake up, wake up."

"Haley…" He gasped, his eyes opening. He looked around, groggy and confused. "Wh-where's Haley?" He tried to sit up.

"No, no, Hotch, lie down," she put her hand on his chest, guiding him back down to the pillows. His dark eyes searched the plain hospital room, looking for the face he was sure could make it all go away.

"Wh-where's-" It all came rushing back then. Emily watched it dawn in his eyes that she was gone, that she had been gone for months now.

"Hotch, it's okay. It's alright," Emily assured. His eyes, usually so strong, hard, unyielding, were scared. Scared, wide, vulnerable, a way that she was sure she'd never see them. It was frightening. He looked at her, then at his hands, then up at her again.

"I…I'm sorry, I… I just…" His eyes were watering. Now Emily was really worried. She did the only thing she could. Feeling weird and wondering if he was going to tell her to get off or give her that look that he gave Reid sometimes when he talked too much, she wrapped her arms around him.

He didn't tell her to get away. He didn't look at her like that. In fact, he hugged her back, crying into her shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's alright. It's okay, don't cry. Shh…"

"D-did you find Reid?" He trembled.

"Yeah," she said, smiling gently at him. "Yeah, we found him. He's in the ER right now, but he'll be in here with you in a little while."

"D-does he know what happened to me? T-to us?" He asked.

"I… I'm not sure. But we'll find out what happened, alright? We'll figure it out." He started crying again. "Shh, shh, it's alright. It's alright. Sh…"

She shut her eyes, still hardly able to contemplate all of this. She hoped Reid could help. She hoped he wasn't hurt that bad, though she knew it was wishful thinking, and she hoped that they could catch the son of a bitch that did this.

* * *

"I got you, it's okay," Morgan assured. I sobbed hard, breathing deeply. He looked down at me, his own eyes pained. "Hang on, Kid. Come here." He carefully peeled the tape from my lips. I gasped for air; my breath shaking so hard it hurt my throat.

Morgan took a knife from his pocket, making me whimper. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm just getting this off, it's alright." He sliced through the tape, gingerly taking it from my blistered wrists. I sobbed a little, wincing and hissing as they were removed.

"I'm sorry," Morgan whispered. "It's okay, Kid. Shh…" I sobbed against him.

"I n-n-need my cl-clothes." God, my throat was on fire. "P-please, Morgan I-I need m-my clothes." I think somewhere I knew that there was nothing left of them, that they had been ripped to shreds hours before. It was past dawn now.

A blanket fell over my shoulders and was tucked tightly around me. J.J. gently rubbed the back of my head, her phone against her ear.

"Yes I need an ambulance…"

Oh god, that meant there would be hands, so many hands that were unfamiliar to me touching me. I sniffed, hiding my face in Morgan's shirt again.

"You're gonna be alright, Reid," Morgan assured.

"Wh-where's Hotch?" I choked. "Is h-he okay? Is he al, alright?"

"Shh… he's fine. He's fine, kid. He doesn't remember what happened to him, or to you." I let my head hang, sighing in relief. "You do, don't you?"

"No," I shook my head, hard. "No, no, no. I don't know, I don't know what happened, I don't know, I don't know…" I didn't want to know, I didn't want to think about it.

"Reid, hey, Reid, look at me," he said gently. He coaxed my face up, making me look at him. His eyes were searching mine, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he found what he was looking for. He was good at his job. He nodded. "Alright, alright, not right now, okay?" I fell against him again.

The ambulance ride was just as I feared.

"You're lucky," one paramedic said. "This could've been a lot worse." I turned my face away from him, toward J.J., sobbing.

A lot worse… How? HOW COULD THIS HAVE BEEN WORSE?

J.J. rubbed my forehead, shushing me gently, making me feel a little better.

_Just listen to J.J.,_ I told myself. _Just listen to her…_

They wouldn't let her behind the curtains in the ER. No, just strangers, doctors with their detached hands, other officials with cameras, telling me to roll over, touching me, photographing me. Didn't they know I couldn't move? Didn't they know that it hurt? I just wanted it to be over. I wouldn't answer their questions. I would only talk to my friends. No one would tell me if I could see Hotch. I needed to see if he was alright for myself.

A hand on my arm made me cry out and jerk away as the fingers fit right into the echo of others in the form of a blue bruise.

"Hey, Kid, it's alright."

* * *

He looked like hell. He looked up at me, his lips shaking. "It's okay, Kid." I assured. He swallowed hard, tears in his eyes.

He'd been beaten too. Not as much as Hotch, no, no, he'd been hurt in other ways. He'd been raped too, but not with a foreign object. There were signs of molestation, bruises and scrapes, and… and this poor kid had…had bruises around his mouth and blistering in the back of his throat.

"Th-they keep touching me, M-Morgan," he choked. I glanced at J.J., who looked just as upset as I was. "I j-just want it to stop." He bowed his head, his hands in his lap, sobbing softly. J.J. went to him, passing me and sitting next to him, hugging him close, unable to take it anymore.

Two men stepped over to the hospital bed, one of them holding a camera, the other a pen and paper. I stood from the chair, jaw and fists clenching.

"You've got enough," I growled. "Back off." I turned back to him when they left.

"Spence," J.J. said softly, still holding him, "tell us what happened. You just have to tell us once and you don't ever have to talk about it again, alright?"

"I d-don't remember," he gulped. "I-"

"Kid," he looked at me, pulling away from J.J., "I know it's easier to forget. I know that if you push it away it doesn't hurt as much. But we need to know. We have to catch the son of a bitch that hurt you." He shut his eyes, folding his lips and nodding. He tightened his grip on J.J.'s hand and looked at me.

"Okay."

* * *

Hotch's eyes flew open again, wide, tears falling from them. I didn't know Hotch could cry.

"Hotch, what's wrong, what is it?" I exclaimed. He looked at me, gasping, terrified.

"I-I remember."


	4. Chapter 4

**- No SLASH!-**

**4**

"I… I…" I didn't know where to start. I was so ashamed, so humiliated that it was hard for me to even _think_ about telling them, let alone this…

"Reid," I looked up at Morgan. "Would it be easier if it was just me?" I nodded, not looking at J.J. But she smiled that warming, gentle smile of hers and stood, giving my hand one last squeeze before leaving.

Morgan sat down next to me, waiting patiently. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and started.

* * *

_1:25 a.m._

I woke up with a barrel of a gun pressed to my forehead and a hand over my mouth.

"Don't you scream," the man hissed. I couldn't speak if I wanted to, I couldn't even breathe. "Get up." I obliged, moving slowly and keeping my hands up. I looked to the other side of the room to where my go-bag was, where my gun was.

"Don't even think about it!" He barked, reaching behind him, taking my gun from his waistband before returning it and withdrawing handcuffs that were quickly closed tightly over my wrists.

He grabbed the nape of my neck, shoving me toward the door, gun in my back. "Walk!" He ordered, pushing me forward.

He was shoving me toward Hotch's room, doing his best to hide his face from the security cameras. I was absolutely terrified of what was about to happen. I didn't know whether Hotch was alive still or not. I didn't know what I would see when I walked in that room.

I couldn't breathe when I found out.

Hotch was out of it, I could tell by the look on his face. This guy must've drugged him. His wrists were cuffed to the posts on the headboard, spread wide above his head. He was yanking at them weakly. He seemed virtually unharmed, but I figured that would be short-lived. He was naked.

"Hotch," I choked. He turned, finally noticing me.

"Reid?" His voice was quiet, very quiet, and that worried me. What the hell had he given him? His eyes shifted to the man holding my neck. "No…no, leave… leave him alone…leave him alone…" He said hoarsely.

The man chuckled and shoved me toward the radiator that was on the opposite wall from the side of the bed about five feet away.

"Get down," He snapped, shoving me to my knees. He knelt down behind me, the gun at the back of my head now as he undid the cuff on one of my wrists and wrapped them around the leg of the radiator, re-cuffing that hand again. He stood, smiling at me and Hotch. "Now here's what's going to happen," he began, looking at me. "You're gonna watch what I do to him and you're gonna keep quiet about it. If you don't, I'll kill him. And I don't think you want little Jack to be all alone, do you?"

He knew about Jack. He knew Haley was dead. It made me wonder what he knew about me.

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was for Hotch to be killed for something I could've prevented. But, God, I didn't want to see this. I didn't want to see what he was going to do to him. I didn't want to sit here, helpless and watch this.

He smiled again and set Hotch's gun on the side-table next to him.

"So where should we start, Aaron?"

The first thing he did was take out a pocket knife.

"No!" I shook my head. "No, no, hurt me! HURT ME! Don't hurt him!"

"Shut up!" He didn't come toward me, or hit me. He backhanded Hotch.

"Don't!" I begged. He did it again. I understood now. I couldn't speak. If I did it would only get worse.

He grinned down at Hotch again, grazing his cheek with the knife blade.

"Now, let's see if I can copy The Reaper's handiwork, eh?" He found the scars that Foyet had left…and reopened every single one.

Hotch couldn't scream, he wasn't strong enough. Whatever the drug was, it made it almost impossible for him to fight or cry out. He whimpered softly, his muscles tensing as blood fell over his chest. He shook his head, tears in his eyes as trauma he'd already gone through plagued him again.

He turned his face away, tears in his eyes as he cringed in horrible pain.

Tears were slowly making their way down my cheeks as I watched. I knew what this was doing to him, and I knew it was only going to get worse. And I was right.

The burns came after that. It was so easy to set the fire-poker into the lit fireplace. He danced the instrument in front of Hotch's face, his smile growing as more tears and fear filled his eyes.

"No, no…" he gulped, a tear finally falling. "Please…" There was blood on his lips. He was shaking all over. And all I could do was watch in horror, shaking my head, eyes wide as it was pressed to his neck.

His scream was a dry, strangled sound that wouldn't be loud enough to wake anyone in the surrounding rooms. And the ones that followed grew weaker and weaker as his voice went.

His face was soaked in sweat and tears. He shook harder, trying to wriggle away, trying to fight it. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He burned his thighs and some of the stab wound's already made, making blood sizzle and dry. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, nearly making me sick.

God, Hotch…

When it cooled he threw it to the ground, right in front of me. I could see blood and bits of skin. I looked away from it and back at Hotch, praying that this would end. I didn't care if he hurt me or not, I just wanted Hotch to be okay.

He took the gun from the table, touching, no, more like caressing Hotch's face with it. He ran it down his neck and his sides, right before slapping it across his face.

I jumped, startled by the sudden blow. He cried out, sobbing, and shrunk away. It hit the other side of his face too. That sound, that horrible sound echoed through the room as it hit his face over and over.

He picked up the fire poker again.

"No…" I breathed.

He slammed it into Hotch's ribs and his arms and his legs, chuckling as he cried harder and harder.

"No more," he whimpered. "No more, please…"

"Alright, alright," the man said, dropping the poker and picking up the gun again. "I've got a better idea."

He gently ran it down his chest, over his pelvis and to the inside of his thighs. He squirmed lightly, whimpering and shut his eyes tightly.

And then what I had feared the most happened. A terrible, choked sound ripped from his throat and his entire body tensed when the muzzle penetrated him.

"No, NO!" He tried to scream. He turned his face away, toward me.

My breath was shaky, sobs having a hard time staying locked in my chest. And it only got worse when his eyes locked with mine.

"Reid," he gasped, grunting in his agony. "Reid, help… Please- OH!" He shut his eyes, breath ragged before looking at me again. "M-Make him stop, please!"

"It's okay, Hotch," I said quietly. I couldn't just be quiet. I couldn't do that to him. "Shh… it's okay." I tried to keep my voice from wavering, but it was hard.

The man scowled at me, pressing the now bloodied gun to Hotch's cheek.

"I told you to keep quiet!" He hissed. "Now shut your mouth!" I folded my lips, looking from Hotch, to the gun, to the man and back again. "Good." The man replaced the gun, making Hotch cry out again. He continued twisting, tearing and thrusting it into him.

I never looked away from Hotch's eyes, and he never broke eye contact with me. It was the only way I could make sure he wasn't going through this alone.

When he stopped every ounce of fight had gone out of him. He cried and whimpered weakly, turning away when the man came close. And I couldn't do a damn thing to comfort him.

He undid his wrists, leaving one cuff on one and took a handful of his hair, tossing him off the bed so he landed in front of me, winded and sobbing.

The man came toward me, undoing one of my cuffs and hauling me up by my hair. "You fight and I shoot him," he said, brandishing Hotch's blood soaked gun toward him. I glanced over at Hotch's bloody and quivering body and bowed my head. I didn't have a choice.

I was cuffed to the bed and Hotch was chained to the radiator.

The man violently grabbed his face, making him look at me.

"If you don't watch and shut your fucking mouth, then I'll kill him. Now how would Diana feel if her baby boy was dead because of you?"

He knew about Mom.

Hotch looked at me, still shaking, still crying, and nodded, agreeing to this monster's demands.

The man smiled and straightened up. Now it was my turn.


	5. Chapter 5

**-Just remember, this is rated M for a reason, guys. Sexual Abuse this chap, ye be warned...-**

**5**

_2: 43 a. m. _

He took out that knife again, still sticky with Hotch's blood, and shoved it into my shirt. The tearing sound filled the room.

"Please," I begged softly. "Don't, please!" He removed my clothes piece by piece, and the more he revealed, the more I pleaded.

"No!" I whimpered, the knife sliding up my leg and into my boxers, ripping the fabric easily. My heart was pounding hard, breath ragged and shaking. I wanted to fight, but I couldn't, I couldn't let him hurt Hotch again. "Please, please, don't!" But the fabric was pulled away and there I was, exposed…naked.

I was trembling, waiting. I think that was the worst part, waiting…

The man chuckled, touching my face. "Do you know what the statistics are about men that have been sexually assaulted?" I trembled harder. "You spend every day talking about statistics, don't you? Well I think it's finally time you became one of those statistics." He ran his fingers through my hair, touching my face. Tears started to fall from my eyes. No, no he's not going to do that. Not that…please.

"You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"

He thumbed my lips, touching my chest, tracing a nipple.

"NO-HOH!" I screamed. "No, no, no, STOP!"

"Shhhshhhshh," he hissed, grinning and slapping his hand over my mouth. "Oh that won't do at all, will it? You're far too loud." More fabric ripping. A strip of my boxers was wrapped around my mouth, silencing me.

I sobbed hard, writhing weakly. His hand wrapped around my throat as he grinned.

"Don't you worry. That fight'll go right out of you soon enough."

He was touching me again, his hands roughly pressing against every inch of exposed flesh on my torso. I begged into the cloth, words lost in the fibers, losing all meaning and becoming a jumbled mess of noise.

"What's wrong, doctor?" He grinned, his hand slowly sliding down further, lingering on my hip. "Do I…" It slipped down even further and I gasped, my eyes growing huge before shutting tight. "_Rub_ you the wrong way?"

A sob escaped from my throat and I shook my head rapidly, whimpering.

"Stop it, stop it, please! Don't do this!" I tried to beg, but the words were incoherent. That menacing smile grew and his hand stayed where it was, stroking, probing, fondling.

"I think you like it," he chuckled. I shook my head. He laughed harder. "Oh, I think you do. I think you're showing me right now."

I tried to wriggle away, thrashing and jerking.

"Oh that won't do," he said, glaring at me. He walked to the other side of the bed, to Hotch, raising the gun again.

"_NO_!" I pleaded, shaking my head, wrists straining against the cuffs. "Hurt me! HURT ME!" The words were meaningless and incoherent. But he brought it down across his cheek regardless.

Hotch cried out, shrinking away from him, sobbing just a little as blood trickled down his face.

The man looked at me, still holding the bloodied gun. "I told you not to fight. If you want that to happen again you just keep it up, doctor."

I couldn't let him hurt Hotch anymore. He'd been through enough, and it hurt to watch him cry.

The man came back to me, climbing on top of me. I sobbed harder, wondering how no one else in this hotel had heard us.

He kissed my face and my neck, suckling hard, his hands like iron on my hips, bruising me.

"So soft," he whispered, tangling his fingers in my hair again, brushing it back and out of my face. I was sweating, trembling, so scared…

He forced my mouth open with his own, briefly taking the gag away and kissing me, exploring every centimeter, leaving no mystery. His knees were in my thighs, making sure that I couldn't move. And god it hurt!

He broke away, replacing the gag; I shrunk back, shutting my eyes and whimpering. Not this, don't let this happen, please. Please, God, anything but this, PLEASE!

"You taste good," he growled, now sucking on my earlobe. I whimpered, shaking hard.

His hands moved from my hips to his belt. Tears fell faster, but silently. I couldn't make a sound. Fear had clogged my throat. All I could do was quiver and wait.

Until he penetrated me. Then I could try to scream. White hot pain jolted through me in time with his thrusts. They were deep, merciless and made me bleed more and more as it kept going.

"_NO! NO PLEASE, PLEASE, STOP IT!_" I shrieked, the sound ever still muffled. "_NOOO! No…please… No more…_" He was right, the fight was leaving me, slowly.

I turned away again, crying. That's when I saw him.

Hotch was looking right at me. I was sure his eyes hadn't left me since this ordeal had started.

There were tears in his eyes, shaking lightly. He smiled a little, as much as he could, offering me what comfort he could.

"Look at me!" He grunted, grabbing my face, breaking me away from the only solace I had. "Yeah, you look at me, boy." I was covered in sweat, blood and tears. He was tearing something from me without care, and I think that hurt me more.

"D-don't, don't p-please…"

He finally pulled out of me, making me yelp in pain. I curled into myself, shuddering and sobbing. But I didn't have a lot of time to catch up or try and fathom what had just happened.

My cuffs were undone and I was yanked off of the bed and thrown to my knees. He ripped the gag from my lips, but I couldn't scream. No, no he'd hurt Hotch. He grabbed my jaw, making me open my mouth.

"Hold still, HOLD STILL!" He barked.

I was choking. I couldn't breathe or think, all I knew was I wanted it to stop. I couldn't even cry. I could hear Hotch behind me, but despite that he was talking, the man just… he just kept going.

"Don't hurt him, don't hurt him, please! Please, stop it!" Hotch begged, sobbing.

He didn't listen. His fist held my hair, keeping me immobile, moaning and moving faster. God I couldn't move!

Then he shuddered and released inside me.

He let me go and I fell to the ground, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe and shaking all over.

Bile rose to the back of my throat, stomach contracting. I wretched onto the floor, coughing and crying harder than ever.

I looked up at Hotch, who was crying too.

"It's okay, Reid," he breathed, lips shaking. "It's alright."

The man slapped me, looking angry. "You swallow what I give you, boy!" He growled. I kept my eyes on the floor, sobbing.

My hands were cuffed again, duct tape slapped on my mouth.

"You're gonna die today," he smiled, dragging me toward a wall. My eyes were locked with Hotch's scared, not for myself, but for him. What would he do to him after he was done with me?

God, I wanted him to stop touching me. I still hadn't stopped crying. I wanted to throw up again.

He opened a door, one that was hidden in the wall. He hauled me up, tossing me into it.

"No, no, don't!"

But he shut the door.

"Please," I heard Hotch whimper. "Please, let him go. Just let him go, please. Hurt me-"

THUD!

Silence.

I tried to stay awake, I tried not to pass out, but I couldn't take the stress. The next thing I knew, I woke up to more silence, and cried, and cried, and cried…


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

Spencer was crying into his hands, shaking uncontrollably.

"Kid," Morgan breathed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Spencer continued to sob, unbearably ashamed of what had been done to him. He felt so pathetic and weak and…and dirty. Morgan sat down next to him, looking sad and a little lost.

Spencer was huddled over his knees, running his thin fingers through his hair, still trembling.

"Kid, come here," he said, hugging him tight. Spencer resisted for a moment, not wanting anyone else's hands on him. But Morgan held him fast, and that was more comforting than being alone.

Morgan shut his eyes as Spencer cried into his shirt, his sobs so hard he couldn't breathe. "Easy, easy, Reid, shh…" He felt so small against him, so fragile. Like a child. That only hurt him worse. "Shh, it's okay, it's ay. You've gotta relax, alright? Shh…breathe, just breathe…"

His eyes stayed clenched shut, lips shaking. "M-Morgan, you have to be careful," he choked. "Th-this unsub-"

"Reid, don't worry about the case-"

"NO!" He begged. "Morgan, h-he wants to hurt us. S-someone needs to protect Will an-and Henry, and, and Jack. He knows how to h-hurt us. Please…keep everyone h-here. K-keep everyone s-safe…"

Morgan nodded, understanding what he was trying to tell him. "Alright, alright, Kid, I'll make sure everyone knows, okay? It's alright, shh…" He held him close, letting him cry until he fell asleep, his body pushed to its limits and beyond exhausted.

"Um," a nurse, who had been waiting patiently and checking in every so often, said behind him. "We're going to transfer him into a room." Morgan nodded, carefully lying him down and covering him back up.

"Could you do me a favor and-"

"We're putting him in Agent Hotchner's room," she smiled knowingly. "I've already been asked by the other three members in your team." Three…that meant Garcia wasn't there yet. She definitely would be soon.

And when she got here… God, he didn't want to think about the wreck she was going to be in.

* * *

"I-I remember," Hotch hiccupped. "Oh God…" His hands were shaking as he ran them over his face and into his hair, breathing hard and rapid.

"Hotch, Hotch, relax," J.J. urged, taking his wrists in her hands and lowering them back down. "Easy, it's alright." She gently guided him back down, smiling warmly, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt.

"No, no…" he breathed, tears still trickling down his cheeks. "Where's Reid? Is, is he alright? God…of course he's not… Th-that man-"

"Shh…" J.J. soothed, hesitating three times before she touched his cheek, wiping the tears away. "Reid told us what happened." His eyes grew before he looked away, humiliated. It was then he saw the younger man.

He was asleep, and deep in it, in the bed next to him. He looked frail and broken, just as he had when he'd been tied to that bed, screaming and writhing.

He felt horrible for just sitting there, watching, helpless. He watched his friend be robbed of the rest of the innocence that still remained in him. Ravaged, stolen, ripped away from his very core…and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help it.

He shut his eyes, pain killers making it hard for him to stay awake and think. "Shh…" J.J.'s hand was on his face again. "It's alright, Hotch. We-"

"I kn-know," he sniffed. "I know. J-just catch him. H-hurry…" He couldn't stay awake. The edges of his vision were growing dark, taking him over.

He dreamt.

* * *

I dreamt was back in that room. Once the man had put Spencer in the closet he'd come back, grinning down at me.

I was still dizzy, my vision clouded and swirled, which only made his grin even more terrible.

"Please," I begged. "Please, let him go. Just let him go. Hurt me-"

He hit me with the gun again. And this time, I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes I didn't know who I was, or why I was there. I just knew that I wanted to get away and get some clothes. Everything hurt, _everything_. I couldn't take a breath without my entire body screaming in agony. My temples thudded, making it ever still hard to think. For the life of me I couldn't remember how I had gotten here, or who the hell I was. I didn't know why someone tied me up, or why I was this hurt.

I started to fight against the restraints. My wrists were so bloody from fighting they actually slipped through the cuffs.

I looked around, horrified by the sight of the mangled bed. I was scared. I found the clothes on the floor, the ones that actually fit me, and left as fast as I could. I got outside without seeing anyone, and I began to wonder if I was totally alone.

Then I got to the street. I thought someone, anyone would help me. I didn't speak, I was too scared, but I thought someone would see the blood and maybe, just maybe help me. But no, they walked away, not wanting to get involved. I understand that now, but then, then, when I was still trying to decipher everything, when I was still coming out of the effects of the drugs I had been given, I was scared. And I didn't understand what I had done to make them not want to help me.

I gasped, coming out of the dream, my eyes opening and sending me back into the hospital room.

"Are you okay?" A small voice asked. I looked over, at Reid, who looked just as terrible as I did.

"Are you?"

* * *

"Oh my God," Emily breathed, tears in her eyes.

"We're gonna gut this son of a bitch, right?" Garcia asked tearfully. Morgan put his arm around her.

"So…what do we do now?" J.J. asked. Rossi let out a breath.

"J.J., go check on Hotch," he said. She nodded and walked into the hospital room next to them. "We just have to proceed like we normally would, like this was any other case."

"So what would we normally do next?" Emily asked.

"Victimology," Morgan said. "But…this time it's us."

"So we need to figure out who he would go after next."

"Wait, wait, wait, why did he go after Hotch and Reid first?" Garcia asked, looking between the three.

"Crime of opportunity, maybe?" Prentiss suggested.

"Maybe it's more than that," Rossi said. "Maybe, he wanted to get Hotch and Reid alone and he knew how he was going to do it. Maybe he bet on Hotch and Reid being in the same hotel and going to the other precinct."

"Or he figured he could get our numbers smaller either way," Morgan suggested, feeling sick that he was talking about his boss and his best friend this way.

"Bottom line, he wanted to take out those two first, why?" Rossi asked. They were silence for a beat.

"Because they're vital to our cases," Prentiss said quietly. "I mean, think about it, Hotch is our boss. He tells us what to do. Without him, we're kinda lost."

"And Reid's your encyclopedia of everything," Garcia said. "He almost knows more than what I can get a hold of."

"So he's taking us out by who he deems most important," Rossi stated.

"Then we gotta figure out who he thinks is most important after Reid," Morgan said.

"And until we do that…then, none of us should be alone."

"No, Baby-Girl. Right now, none of us are safe."


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

_8:32 a.m._

"No. I-I'm not okay," Spencer said, looking down at his hands. Hotch pursed his lips, looking at his hands as well.

"Yeah…me either," he mumbled.

There was a lapse of awkward silence between the two. "I'm sorry," Spencer said.

"For what?" Hotch asked, incredulous. Spencer glanced at him, folding his lips like he did when he was nervous, or in this case, ashamed.

"For, for talking or doing something he told me not to. He hit you for it…I'm sorry." Hotch shook his head.

"I'm glad you did." Spencer frowned, confused. Hotch didn't look at him, and when he spoke his voice was very soft. "I…I'm glad I didn't have to go through that alone. I'm glad you said something. Thank you…for…for being there." Neither of them looked at the other.

"Y-you too," Spencer whispered.

"You should rest," Hotch said.

"I…yeah, you're right," he whispered, shutting his eyes. They opened again when the door creaked.

Garcia peeked through the door at them, trying to be quiet if either of them was asleep. She came in, looking at both of them. "Hey," she smiled.

Her eyes moved between the two and finally rested on Spencer. He looked back at her, those big brown eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, honey…" She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She hugged him close, thankful that he was alright. She planted kisses on the top of his head, his forehead and his cheeks, unbelievably happy that he was okay. He'd scared her so badly…

Spencer hugged her back, shaking a little and trying not to cry. He didn't succeed very well. "Ow," he hissed when she squeezed him just a little too tight.

"Sorry!" She exclaimed, loosening her grip a little. "Sorry, sugar." She looked at him, noticing the deep dark circles under his eyes. "You need sleep," she said, gently guiding him back down to the pillows. She took his hand in hers, rubbing his forehead with the other.

"You have to stop scaring us like that," she said sternly. "You're gonna give poor Morgan a heart attack." He smiled a little, a tear escaping to his cheek.

The drugs started to kick in, his eyes feeling heavier and heavier. He was asleep before he could tell Garcia to get them to stop administering him narcotics.

She smiled at him painfully, brushing his newly shortened hair out of his face. "You're right," she said to Hotch. "He does look like he joined a boy band, huh?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, wondering if she made him smile like she intended.

He smiled a little. Her eyes were pained.

She stood, wringing her hands nervously, trying not to stare at the deep purple bruises on his cheeks.

"Jack and Jessica are safe," she assured. "They'll be in protective custody until all of this is over."

She could see the weight that was lifted off of his shoulders as she spoke. He shut his eyes, sighing.

"Thank you," he breathed. She smiled and nodded.

"Will and Henry are safe too. So's Reid's mom and Morgan's family. We're not sure if we should worry about them or not, but we're just being careful," she said quietly.

"What about Kevin?" Hotch rasped. She smiled.

"Kevin works with a bunch of FBI agents every day. He'll be just fine," she assured. There was a beat of silence before he spoke.

"Did…did they find my gun?" He asked in a small voice that brought tears to her eyes. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"No it…it wasn't in the room. We can't find Reid's either." He nodded, not looking at her, holding back another wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm him in his weakened state. Those memories just wouldn't leave him alone…

Garcia chewed her lip, wringing her hands even faster. "Uh, sir?" She squeaked. He looked up at her, trying to keep his lips from shaking again. "Can…can I hug you?" He nodded, smiling a little.

She hugged him tight, just as worried about him as she was Reid. He hugged her back, knowing that the tears he was shedding would stay between the two of them..

"Shh…it's okay, Hotch. Shh…"

* * *

"GHB?" Morgan repeated, still unable to believe it.

"Yes," the doctor said, nodding. "The effects should wear off in a few hours. He's actually lucky he didn't overdose."

"Lucky…" Emily scoffed quietly.

"Is that it?" Morgan asked, exasperated and unsure if he wanted to hear the rest of this for not.

"Yes. Other than that neither of their conditions has changed."

"Thanks," Morgan said shortly, not sounding as if he meant it at all. The doctor walked away. Emily sighed.

"What should we do?" She asked.

"We've made sure everyone's family is safe, right?" She nodded. "Then we just have to figure out who he's gonna go after next."

"Guys!" J.J. exclaimed, jogging around the corner with Garcia and Rossi in tow. "We figured it out, we know who he's going after next."

"Who?" Morgan and Emily asked in unison.

"Me," Garcia said. "It's me."


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

"Baby Girl, how do you know it's you?" Morgan asked.

"I make the most sense," she mumbled. "I guess, I mean that's what J.J. and Rossi said."

"Think about it," Rossi began, "he's attacking people that are most vital to our cases. Who do we call nearly every day for some sort of information?"

Morgan looked at her, his eyes pained. "You're not goin' anywhere, you hear me?" He said firmly. She nodded.

"I know."

"We've got the hospital on lock-down, no one's getting in or out without I.D." J.J. said. Morgan nodded. Emily sighed, her head back, eyes shut.

"This day sucks," she said plainly. The others nodded.

"I'm gonna go talk see Hotch and Reid," Garcia said. "I wanna see if they're alright." They nodded and she walked into the room behind them.

"We know what he drugged Hotch with," Emily said, gaining the other two agent's interest. "GHB. He was given a couple doses of it, which is why he's still kind of out of it."

"GHB?" J.J. repeated, as if she couldn't believe it. "That could've come from anywhere."

"But why would he use that specific drug?" Rossi asked. "I mean, a regular sedative would've done just fine, but he chose a rave drug. Why?"

"It'd screw with Hotch's head, that's for sure," Morgan said.

"It'd screw with anyone's head," Prentiss amended.

"What do we know about this guy?" Rossi asked. "We need to get a profile out."

* * *

White male in his mid-to-late-thirties. Light brown hair, average height, average build, glasses. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this man, other than he wanted nothing more than to make the BAU team suffer. They administered the profile to the police, stating that their facts came from both Reid's testimony and their own observations.

This man had the same make up as a celebrity stalker. He saw something he wanted, something he wanted to hurt because of what they could do. Pure jealousy. He saw every move they made as an attack toward him. Every subtle movement was one of them telling him something. As Gideon would have put it, "asking him with their glances".

This man wasn't stupid. In fact, he was very intelligent. Not Reid intelligent, but pretty smart. He knew everything about all of them, it seemed. He knew about Reid's mother and Jack. He knew how smart he was. He knew he was rendered totally helpless when exposed like that.

He knew that using the job against Hotch would work to. To make him shudder to think about it, to attack the one thing that drove him the most and make him shy away from it. He also knew that making it so Hotch couldn't fight back even if he wanted to, to make him utterly helpless would both anger and humiliate him. He knew.

That's what scared them the most. But they had no idea just how bad it was going to get.

* * *

"Shh…it's okay, Hotch. Shh…"

There was a light knock on the door and Garcia looked up. A doctor stood in the doorway, smiling pleasantly.

"Hello, hello," he smiled. "Just here to check in and make sure everything's alright." Garcia smiled and nodded. That's when she felt Hotch shaking in her arms.

She frowned, looking down at him. His eyes were wide and tear-filled, his body shaking in what could only be described as pure terror.

That's when she figured it out. And when she looked up again, the man had a gun in his hand.

"Hello again, Aaron," He smiled. "Did you miss me?" Hotch shook a little harder.

"But, but the building's on-" Garcia began.

"Lockdown?" He chuckled. "Yes, that was after I got in." His face turned serious. "Go shut the door blondie," he barked. She stood, reluctantly letting Hotch go. She closed the door, the gun still on her.

"Back up," he said, gesturing to the far wall with the gun. She did so, glancing at Hotch. "You scream and I'll kill them."

He went over to Hotch. He was stronger than he had been last time. He could keep a stronger face; fight more, if there was anything to fight against, that is.

He looked at the gun in his face, his eyes growing a fraction. There was still blood on the muzzle.

"Hold still," he warned. "One shot and that little blonde girl's brains'll be all over that wall. Another second and sleeping beauty over there won't be waking up." He took a syringe from inside his lab coat, smiling at Hotch, then at Garcia, who had tears in her eyes.

Hotch watched the needle until it dove into his neck, sending the drug through his veins.

"Give that about five minutes," he chortled. "You'll be back to what you were in that room." He looked sideways, over at Spencer, who was still sound asleep.

"Leave him alone," Garcia breathed.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Penelope?" He grinned. "Because that's what you fear most, isn't it? Your friends, your family, getting hurt?" He grabbed a handful of Spencer's hair, yanking him up, waking him viciously. He looked around in confusion for a moment, hissing in pain before he realized what danger he was in. "Especially the baby." The man grinned down at him.

"Did you miss me, love?" Spencer started to shake, his nightmares now coming to life. "Aw, look at that face," he mocked, once again looking to Garcia. He stroked Spencer's cheek, making him whimper, a tear slinging down his face.

He brought the gun in his hand to Spencer's cheek as well, caressing it just as he had Hotch's the night before. And he knew what came next.

It whipped across his face, hard. He yelped, sobbing. Garcia covered her mouth, stifling her own cry.

"Please," she said quietly. "Please, just leave him alone." The man laughed.

"Yes, that's what you want. You want me to leave the poor, innocent baby alone, don't you?" Spencer was trembling still, tears trekking down his cheeks, over the violent red mark that would soon be a deep bruise.

The man looked at the gun again, then down at Spencer. He roughly grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open, making Spencer try to squirm away in fear.

"Don't!" Garcia choked. Hotch was starting to tremble, his control slipping. He looked around, as if he almost didn't know where he was, body shaking harder as his temperature dropped.

The man shoved the muzzle, still sticky with Hotch's blood, into Spencer's mouth.

Spencer moaned and tried to squirm away, but the vice in his hair just got tighter.

"No!" Garcia took a step forward.

"Ah, ah, ah," he warned, clicking his tongue. He took another gun from inside his coat. This time a revolver. Reid's gun. He pointed it at Hotch. She froze. "The gun in the baby's mouth is loaded. And so is this one. You just sit back and watch what I do to them."

There were tears on her face as she backed up, her hand over her mouth, watching Spencer cry and Hotch shrink away in a fear that he couldn't help.

"How's that taste?" The man grinned. Spencer shut his eyes, sobbing.

"I said…" He raised the revolver as if to hit him. Spencer whimpered. Before he could bring his hand down, the door burst open.

"DON'T YOU MOVE YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

-Uh oh! More soon!-


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

"DON'T YOU MOVE YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

The man turned the gun back to Hotch, his attention now on the door instead of Spencer. The man smiled.

"Derrick," he chuckled, "this is a nice surprise."

"Put the guns down," Morgan growled, aiming his own at the man's heart.

"Or what?" The man laughed. "If you shoot me, then I shoot the little one," he nodded to Spencer. "It only takes one shot and this poor thing's brain'll be all over the wall." Spencer shut his eyes trembling.

The man pointed the revolver at Garcia, making Morgan tense even more. "Now put your gun down or I shoot your precious Baby Girl." Garcia shuddered as he spoke.

Morgan flexed his jaw. He didn't have a choice. He lowered his gun. "Now there's a good boy." Morgan sneered at him, slowly moving in front of Garcia, in front of the gun.

"Oh how sweet," the man chortled. "I suppose chivalry is not yet dead, is it?" He glanced down at Spencer. "How are you doing, darling?" Spencer shut his eyes, ashamed. Morgan's hatred for this man was increasing as the seconds went on. He knew what this man had done to them, to Hotch, and to his best friend. And now he was threatening Garcia's life. No, no this man needed to die.

"Who the hell are you?" Morgan spat, his eyes smoldering.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He chuckled.

With his attention elsewhere, Spencer could think. His mind was racing, trying desperately not to focus on the gun in his mouth or what was on it or what this man was saying to Morgan.

How could he get them out of this without someone getting hurt? It didn't matter what happened to him, all that mattered was that Hotch, Garcia and Morgan were alright.

_C'mon, think, think, think!_

The gun…the gun in his mouth, Hotch's gun…wait. Hotch's gun… They found no weapons at the scene…and Hotch carried two guns.

He looked at the man's waist. His coat was pulled aside revealing the other .45. It was right there, six inches in front of him.

He looked up at the man, who was lost in his own monologue, inching his hand up so slowly it didn't look like he was moving at all. Or maybe he just felt that way.

Then he couldn't take it anymore. He lunged forward, wrapping his hand around the gun and pulling his mouth away from the other.

He aimed and fired without missing a beat. It struck the man in the shoulder, spinning him around as he fired the revolver toward Morgan and Garcia.

Morgan turned around as quickly as he could, wrapping his arms around Penelope and tucking her underneath him as the gun went off. The bullet grazed his arm and he inhaled sharply, squeezing her tighter.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, jaw dropped. "Are-are you okay?" She asked. He nodded and turned again, kicking the revolver and .45 out of the attacker's unconscious hands.

Prentiss burst through the door, quickly followed by J.J. and Rossi.

"What the hell happened?" She exclaimed. Morgan didn't answer.

He slowly approached Spencer, who hadn't dropped the gun and was still holding it up. "Kid," he said cautiously. "Kid, gimme the gun." Spencer looked up at him, the gun going with him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy!" He held up his hands. "It's Morgan, it's alright. Just hand me he gun. He carefully wrapped his hand around the muzzle, twisting it out of his grip. He held it out behind him, waiting for someone to take it. Rossi obliged.

He hugged Spencer, who was shaking hard, adrenaline rushing through him. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

"Hotch," Spencer breathed. "Hotch, is Hotch okay?"

J.J. went to him, sitting on the bed next to him.

His face was in his hands, which were shaking. She gently pushed them away.

"Please," he said softly.

"It's okay, shh…" J.J. said warmly. "No one's going to hurt you. Look at me." He looked up at her, still shaking and confused. "Alright, Hotch, it's okay. It's over. Shh…" She touched his cheek, soothing him to the best of her ability.

"I'll get a doctor," Rossi said, heading for the door.

"I'll take care of this scum-bag," Emily spat, sneering down at the man. She bent down, roughly rolling him over and cuffing him as tightly as she could.

"He'll need to get treated for that gunshot," Morgan said. Emily nodded, her face hard.

"I know. This just makes me feel better," she growled. Morgan couldn't help but smile.

"Wh-what can I do?" Garcia squeaked.

"Go," Spencer whispered, looking up at Morgan. "She's more freaked out than I am."

Morgan nodded, reluctantly letting his friend go.

Spencer lied down again, shutting his eyes, still shaking.

"I'm gonna stay here with them," J.J. said. Morgan and Garcia nodded, walking out of the room.

A doctor came in a moment later to help Hotch, leaving J.J. to sit with Spencer.

"Is he alright?" He asked softly.

"He's just fine," J.J. assured. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be okay," he said, cursing himself for the tears that were in his eyes. J.J. looked at him, her eyes pained. She took the small cup of water on the side table next to him and lifted it to his lips.

"To rinse your mouth out," she said gently. That didn't help him any. He took a mouthful, swishing it around to try and get that taste out. He spit back into the cup, trying to keep any and all sobs locked in his throat.

"Spence, honey," she hugged him tight, brushing his hair back and kissing his temple. "Shh…I know, I know. It's alright, sweetie. It's alright now, shh…" He cried into her neck, hugging her back as much as his weakened muscles would allow. It was over… it was over…

Almost.

-More soon!-


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

His name was Peter Ogden. He lived right in Quantico, Virginia. He had first seen the BAU team on the news. His obsession started there. He wanted to show the world that even the strongest people that were supposed to protect them could fall, hard, and break. His intentions weren't to kill the team, but to damage them so beyond repair that they would all be out of the job.

They knew all of this now because he told them. He was admitted to the ER to remove the bullet Reid had put in his shoulder.

"Don't give him anything for the pain, Doctor," Rossi said, smirking a little at Ogden. "We need him lucid for the interrogation."

The doctor obliged and did as Rossi requested. Now they were back at NYPD in one of the dozens of interrogation rooms, talking to him.

Rossi, Morgan and Emily were all three inside, making sure they showed him just what happened when you tried to hurt one of their friends.

"So, Peter," Rossi began. "Let's start with the simplest question; why?" Peter laughed. Morgan flexed his jaw, a bandage on his arm from where the bullet had brushed against him.

"Because it's too easy!" Ogden exclaimed. "All of you, you're just too easy to get to! I can't believe how _stupid_ Penelope is to let me have access to all of your files like that."

"Watch your mouth," Morgan spat. Prentiss glanced over at him, frowning.

Garcia was on the other side of the two-way mirror. She gasped.

She knew he looked familiar. And he was. He was another tech that came in, a maintenance guy just to do a general check up. After they had found encrypted files on her computer she would receive random visits from people to make sure everything was "working okay", code for they were making sure every file she had could be opened by any FBI agent and not just her.

And with that ruse, he had been able to get any and all information he needed about the seven of them. She smacked herself in the forehead, angry at her own stupidity.

"So you know what gets to all of us, huh?" Prentiss challenged.

"Of course I do," he snorted, sounding offended. "You couldn't tell that by the state Aaron and Spencer were in, Emily?" The sound of his voice saying their names made her skin crawl, but she kept her face hard. "Let's take you, for instance," he smirked. "You don't like not being in control. In fact, you hate it. Immobilizing you completely would have done the trick." He looked at Morgan.

"And you, Derek," he grinned. "Well, I'd just have to touch you, wouldn't I?" Morgan lunged forward, his face red. Prentiss caught him fast, tugging on his shoulder.

"Easy, easy," she eased him back. Ogden laughed.

"Yes, that's what I thought," he looked over to Rossi. "And Dave. Screaming children ought to do it for you. And sweet J.J., it would kill her to see something happen to a baby, especially one around Henry's age."

Rossi seemed unfazed by all of this.

"Raping Spencer makes him shut down, makes it so he can't use that precious brain of his. He's just that helpless little lamb we all know he is. He's just so fragile, don't you think? He does seem to get dumped on a lot. I mean, getting kidnapped like that, being on those horrible narcotics-"

"You shut your mouth," Morgan growled. Ogden smiled, looking at Rossi.

"Isn't he a little too angry to be giving an interrogation right now?"

"I don't think so," Rossi said calmly. "If blood ends up anywhere I'll be sure to send him out." He smiled pleasantly, watching that little twitch Ogden gave at the thought.

"Ah, almost forgot Aaron," he smiled, clapping his hands together. "Now _that_ was quite difficult. He would never give me what I wanted from him if he was in his right mind. So getting him out of it was the first task. GHB is oh so easy to got a hold of. Easy to make, too. And it did the trick better than I could've dreamed of."

"I have a question," Rossi said, still as calm as ever. "What's a smart guy like you doing throwing your life away over something like this?"

"Someone had to do it," Ogden spat, losing his composure for the first time since they had seen him. "Someone had to show the world that we don't have to be afraid of you. You're just as _weak_ and _vulnerable_ as the rest of us. There's no reason for us to fear you. You're nothing!"

"So that's your problem," Prentiss said, smirking. "You have an issue with people bossing you around, don't you?"

"Do we intimidate you, Peter?" Rossi asked, sitting down in the chair at the end of the table, crowding him.

"I think we do, Rossi," Morgan said, leaning forward. Ogden glared at him. "You know, I think that's why he did those things to Reid, huh? Does it make you _mad_ that he's so much younger than you but _so_ much smarter? Huh? Does it?"

"You're _jealous_," Emily chuckled, laughing at him. "That's what it is, you're jealous of some kid."

"And Hotch," Rossi said. "You just can't _stand_ that he can get people to do what he wants so easily, can you? He's everything you wanted to be but were too spineless t try. Too worthless, huh?"

"This isn't about the rest of the world, this is about _you_," Emily said, leaning in his face. "You and your petty, pathetic-"

Ogden dove at her, snarling like some kind of animal, any and all control gone. She backed up, waiting for the cuffs in the table to stop him. She laughed.

"That's what I thought."

"You're goin' to jail," Morgan said darkly.

"I'll be treated like a hero!" Ogden barked. "Taking down the FBI! I'll have more respect than Aaron ever did!"

"Not if they think you raped an innocent boy," Rossi said. "Sex offenders don't fair well in prison, I hear."

"B-but, no he's-"

"Who the hell's gonna believe that you did that to a twenty-seven year-old genius that works for the FBI?" Morgan challenged. Prentiss smiled a little, heading for the door with the other two.

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

* * *

Spencer had thrown up a few times for obvious reasons. Stress, trauma, and the harshness of his sobs was merely a few.

J.J. held him, making sure Hotch was still sleeping every so often.

"Shh…it's alright. It's okay, Spence. It'll be alright. Shh…"

"I-I don't know if it w-will, J.J.," he coughed. "I-I d-don't know if w-we'll be okay."

"Of course you will," she smiled, nodding for assurance. "You and Hotch will be just fine, I promise. Everything'll be alright in just a couple weeks, you watch."

Spencer wanted to believe her. He desperately wanted to. He didn't know if he'd be able to take it. He could barely stand being kidnapped by Tobias. Even that took months to get over. But after he…after he'd been…

No, no he couldn't do it. "I can't…I can't…"

"Hey, look at me," she said firmly, lifting his chin. "I don't want to hear you talk like that again, you hear me?" She softened her tone, rubbing his cheek and smiling. "I don't want to know what this team would be like without you, Reid. I mean, who'll answer all of those random questions that no one should know the answer to, huh?"

"You'd miss that?" He asked, smiling a little.

"I don't know if Morgan would, but I would," she chuckled, hugging him tighter. "Promise me, Spence. Promise me you won't leave. We need our genius."

"I promise."

She stayed with him all night, and Garcia stayed with Hotch while Morgan, Rossi and Emily took care of all the nasty work of getting Ogden arrested.

There had to be a trial. Hotch and Spencer wouldn't have to testify due to the photographs that had been taken of their injuries, and Ogden had confessed anyway. It was pretty cut and dry. That wasn't the tricky part.

What would be the hardest was Hotch and Reid being able to do their job again. And whether Strauss would let them back or not. Hotch had already almost left a few times, and he had almost been forced into resigning because of the Foyet incidents. She had suspected Reid had had some sort of illegal problem, but there was obviously never proof of it.

But that could wait til later. Right now, the most important thing was getting them out of this hospital, getting them home, and being there for them.

-Bad guy caught, check. TLC? Next chap :) -


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

Spencer was able to get out of the hospital before Hotch. His injuries weren't quite as bad and Hotch still had mild withdrawal symptoms to deal with. He shuddered at the thought. He knew how those felt.

He was afraid to be alone, whether Ogden was in custody or not. If Foyet could break out of prison then so could this guy.

Morgan stayed at his apartment with him for a few nights until he stubbornly told him that he would be just fine.

"Alright, alright," Morgan said, holding up his hands, understanding what Reid was doing. "If you need somethin', call me, Kid. I don't care how stubborn you are, just do it, alright?"

Spencer chewed his lip, nodding. He hated working with profilers.

He had horrible, horrible nightmares that night. He woke up screaming. He curled into a ball and cried the rest of the night, too scared to move, let alone call Morgan. When he came to check on him that morning he chastised him.

"Kid, I know you didn't get any sleep, why didn't you call me, huh?" His tone was harsher than he had meant it, and he regretted every syllable when he saw the tears in Spencer's eyes.

"Sorry," he gulped.

"Kid, hey," he pulled him into a hug, feeling terrible. "It's alright, I'm sorry. Shh…"

He was much better a week later. He wanted to go back to work the minute he was out of the hospital to keep his mind off of things, but Morgan –who was standing in for Hotch for awhile again- wouldn't hear of it.

The memory of what Ogden did to him would never leave his memory, not ever. He was cursed like that. Or gifted, depending on how you looked at it. But he could work, he could still do his job.

He just didn't know how well he would fare with rape victims. "Use it," Morgan said. "Use it to help you do this job better, Kid. And if you're not ready to come back yet, that's alright."

He was. He would do whatever it took to make sure that he could work again. And that meant a psych-eval.

* * *

Hotch didn't want anyone staying with him when he was released from the hospital. He wanted to see his son. He had to wait a few days to let the bruises on his face fade to where Jack wouldn't ask about them.

"Daddy!" His little face lit up at the sight of him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He knelt down and scooped him into his arms, hugging him for five solid minutes until he was able to talk himself into putting him down.

"Mac 'N cheese!" The little boy grinned, tugging on his arm and bouncing up and down. He smiled back.

"Alright, buddy, c'mon," he took his hand and led him into the kitchen, at peace for the first time in a week.

It was a different story when Jack went to bed. The silence was deafening. He wished Hayley were here. He desperately wished she was still here. He missed her so much…

He slept fitfully, nightmares plaguing him.

"Daddy, Daddy!" He gasped, sitting up, his shirt soaked in a cold sweat. He looked down at his son, who was clutching a stuffed bear, tears in his eyes.

"Hey, buddy," Hotch said, regaining his composure. "What's wrong?"

"You, you was havin' a bad dream," he sniffed. "Y-you was c-cryin'." He registered the tears on his face and quickly wiped them away, smiling at him.

"I'm alright, Jack. I'm okay."

"Y-you scared me." He started to cry. He scooted to the edge of the bed, picking him up and hugging him.

"Hey, hey, easy," he soothed, rubbing his back. "It's alright. Everything's alright, Jack. It's okay." The boy's arms locked around his neck, squeezing tight.

"I miss Mommy, too," He whispered.

Hotch shut his eyes. He must've been saying her name. He hugged him a little tighter, holding the back of his head.

"Itta be okay, Daddy."

He shut his eyes, afraid to hug Jack any tighter for fear of hurting him. Jack fell asleep in his arms, and he fell asleep holding him. That wasn't the last time that happened.

Getting back to work was different. Strauss had had it out for him for sometime now, he didn't want this to be used as an excuse for her to get rid of him.

He would do whatever he could to pass his psych-eval.

* * *

Both Spencer and Hotch passed. They could go back, pending an evaluation from the acting supervisor, Morgan. It had been nearly a month since the incident occurred and while physically they were both alright –save Hotch's ribs- emotionally they were only sub-par.

They couldn't look at each other. No eye contact was made, even when Hotch was asking Spencer something. They just didn't look at each other.

The others noticed. They brought no attention to it. Morgan didn't mark it on either of their reports. It didn't affect their jobs in the least.

They both did just fine. Great, in fact.

However, when J.J. presented a case to deal with women who had been tied down and sexually assaulted before being suffocated Spencer ran out of the room and into the bathroom, throwing up.

"Maybe you should sit this one out," Morgan suggested. He shook his head, cheeks still clammy.

"I'll be alright," he nodded. "I'll be okay." Morgan looked at him warily.

"Kid-"

"Morgan, if…if I don't do this now, I'll never be able to. I…I have to do this," he said quietly, his voice shaking. Morgan looked at him for a long time before answering.

"If you can't, tell me. No one's gonna think less of you if you sit one case out, alright?" He said steadily.

"Okay."

He wished he could be strong, like Hotch was. He didn't seemed to be bothered by it anymore, or he was strong enough to keep his mind and his stomach under control. He felt so weak.

Ogden was in prison for life for two counts of attempted murder, assault and battery, sexual assault, assault with a deadly weapon, assaulting four federal agents and kidnapping, but that didn't mean he still wasn't scared. He was ashamed that he was.

He would be alright. He'd been through terrible things before. As long as he pushed those memories away and bottled them up deep inside where they couldn't hurt him anymore he would be alright.

The jet took them to Tulsa, where the girls were being raped.

He was thankful when they got back to the hotel rooms, where he could be alone for awhile, where he could freak out without Morgan monitoring him.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling the echo of those hands all over his body and trying not to cry without success.

He was sniffling when someone knocked on his door. He quickly wiped his eyes, gathering whatever composure he could and stood, opening the door.

"Hotch!" He said quietly. He was surprised he was standing there. He had barely talked to him since…

"You mind if I come in?" He asked. Spencer nodded, stepping aside and closing the door behind him.

"Something wrong?" He asked in a small voice. Hotch looked at him, his face as serious as ever.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Spencer looked at him, knowing that no matter what he said Hotch would know the truth. He sat back in the place he had been before. Hotch sat in the chair at the desk across frm him, facing him.

"I'm fine," Spencer lied, staring at his hands. God, he wished he knew how Hotch could stay so strong…

"I'm not."

Spencer's head flew up, wide eyes meeting his for the first time in a month. "Y-you're not?" He breathed. Hotch shook his head.

"I can't use my gun," he mumbled, looking down at the weapon in his hands. "I know it's not the one that… but, I…"

"I can't let anyone touch me," he admitted. "And I can't have anything near my mouth unless I'm holding it."

They were both silent for a long time, each staring at their hands.

Spencer jumped when Hotch suddenly threw the gun to the ground before burying his face in his hands.

"Maybe I shouldn't be here," he breathed. "Maybe Strauss is right…" Spencer wondered if he forgot he was sitting there.

"Hotch…if you shouldn't be here then I _really_ shouldn't be here," he choked.

"Why?" He asked, looking up at him. He laughed ruefully.

"Because I…I'm in worse shape than you are," he said, cursing himself for those damned tears. "I mean, look at me." He turned his eyes back to the floor, wincing when a tear fell to the carpet.

He jumped when Hotch touched his shoulder.

"I think we should try and help each other instead of ignore each other, Reid," he said, his voice breaking a little. He hugged the younger man, and Spencer hugged him back.

They both were locked in a prison of inner agony. But they could help each other. And they were the only ones that could get the other out. It wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick, but they could do it.

Because they refused to let that son of a bitch win.

**END**

-Yay! Thank you all so mch for following this! I hope you liked it and I hope to hear from you in the future! God Bless you all!-


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